Fast and Furious - Black List
by Videl Exumai
Summary: Challenge Accepted By Challenge King - Harry Potter has never been one to live in peace, his world once ruled by war. Now with the fall of Voldemort Harry's life's life is empty, void of thrill and excitement. Desperate Harry turns to the world of mechanics, drifting into a world of adrenaline and speed. Harry Potter/ Fast and Furious Crossover, Harry/Letty, Please Review
1. Teaser Chapter

_**Fast and Furious – Black List**_

By – Videl Exumai

- Challenge by Challenge King –

The obviously customised vehicle sped down the west side highway of Los Angeles. The engine sung with the melody of exhaust and Staged Turbos torque.

The two toned, emerald green bodied and onyx black hood of the Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution gleamed with the intensity of the west American sun. Form wrought with a flamboyant body kit, complete with the sheen of neon.

The driver was chic; a wealth of unruly dark hair framed a striking, handsome visage. At the drivers brow rested a unique, lightning bolt scar, eyes framed by expensive, transitioned spectacles.

The driver relished in the healthy sound of his engine rather than the pounding, pumping riffs issuing from his speaker system.

Together both vehicle and driver turned off the highway to the bustle of the city. Eyes filled with envy and awe followed the exquisite vehicle, the windows lifted and tinted black.

The sound of sirens startled the driver, looking down at his speedo and sighted that he travelled at the respectable speed limit. Gazing back into his rear view Harry James Potter sighted the distinctive blues and twos of the LAPD.

Pulling over at the next space offered him, Harry slid down the window of his driver's side door, his hands resting politely on the steering wheel.

An officer, powerfully built, clad in full uniform, vest and weapon exited the patrol car. Stepping towards Harry's car the officer whistled appreciatively as he approached.

"May I help you, officer?" Harry addressed, speaking in perfect, accented manors. The officer could not suppress a snigger at Harry's obviously British accent. The officer leaned into Harry's window, resting his whole weight against the body of the Mitsubishi Evo.

"Damn!" The offered exclaimed, his eyes feasting upon the fully customised form of the car, the outlandish luxury of the vehicle's interior. "This is a nice car,"

The officer's tone was laced with sarcasm and arrogance. Harry did not acknowledge the compliment, hearing the officer's obvious jest.

"I doubt that this little ride confers with American road safety standards," Harry smiled slyly, just by the sound of the engine one could tell that this was no normal gas guzzler.

"Tell you what," The officer said, lifting Harry out of his slight reverence. "We are going to commandeer this vehicle, take it apart and see if it is legal. If it isn't well, I'm sure-"

Just then an argent distress call sounded from the officer's radio, calling nearby officers to a disturbance. The broad cop cursed under his breath, turned and eyed Harry with scorn.

"I'm watching you, limy," lifting his radio, the officer confirmed his acknowledgement of the distress call. To Harry's shock and distress, the officer then took his keys and thus gouged an eighteen inch scratch down the side of Harry's Mitsubishi as he stepped back to his patrol car.

Harry cursed at the ruination of his car, but also breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the cop steer away. Harry swallowed, thinking of how much alteration would be needed to repair that scratch. He started his car with a trill of engine power and set back off.


	2. End of an Era

_**Chapter One – End of an Era**_

_Hogwarts Castle_

_Great Britain_

_May 2, 1998_

The eruption of jubilation at the death of Lord Voldemort was deafening. Amidst a mass of euphoria Harry James Potter stood, hands laden with the feel of the elder wand, a sickening, unexpected sense of loss emanating through him.

Harry neither registered, nor cared for the sheer mass of people who deluged him, his gaze centred upon the emaciated, waxen corpse of his lifelong enemy. His heart ached, lost to a world of disbelief, shock and sorrow. Voldemort had been such an imposing, present figure within this young man's life that, now, with his falling, a gaping void opened within Harry's heart, threatening to consume him.

Confusion roiled, deep amidst the depths of young Potter's gut, arms enveloped him, sweet, tender, loving arms. His eyes welled with tears as slowly; gently Harry was drawn back, away from the crowd of exuberance and ushered into the quiet of the castle corridors.

It was then that Harry saw her, his best friend, his passion Hermione Jean Granger. Her wealth of rich, chestnut tresses were matted with blood, Harry hoped not hers spilt, as tenderly Hermione embraced him.

"It's ok, Harry," Hermione cooed, her fingers softly caressing his form, a slight kiss touching his cheek. "This must be so hard,"

Harry sobbed, knew that of all people, Hermione would be the one to understand, the one to truly sense his feelings.

"What now, Hermione" Harry breathed, his arms enveloping her dear, her lips found his cheek, she smiled into his eyes.

"We take each day as it comes," Hermione spoke gently, her lips slowly finding his. "We're free,"

Tenderly, Harry fell once more into her embrace, they stood quiet, contended in each other's arms, the noises of the exuberant crowd amass within the great hall, lost to them.

The hours for Harry pasted by at an agonisingly slow pace, filled with handshakes, words of fanned joy, wrought with praise and acknowledgments from the gathered.

After so many hours, so many exhausting words, finally, Harry retired to the quarters of the Gryffindor common room. The crowd had chosen to offer Harry private accommodation, all at the request of professor McGonagall. Harry lay awake, lost to the patterns of fabric draped around his four poster. His heart felt void of happiness, lost to any of the jubilation felt within any of the others.

The loss of Voldemort was a substantial blow, his very world sent askew at his death. It wasn't so much the killing, the taking of an evil soul's life which had him so disturbed. It was the thought of the _what_, the meaning his life needed to find now with the slaying of his enemy.

Harry heard the door of his private quarters slowly open, he waited for the rush of halation, the squeal of praise and joy. Nether came. Turning Harry sighted a slight shadow through the drapes, saw the outline grow closer.

Harry's hand tightened about the elder wand held at his side; ready for defence, for combat if this person held unfriendly values.

His lips twitched as the drapes were slowly pulled aside. Hermione stood, clad in a simple, silken robe, hair falling askew, tresses draped about herself like an exotic vision.

Slowly, teasingly she began to crawl across his large bed, her body sliding seductively up his legs, her substantial breasts caressing him through the drape of her robe. Hermione's hand drifted to the silken tie fixed about her waist, shrugged out of the robe, offering her lover a view of her glorious nakedness.

Harry's hands reached up, caressed the creamy flesh of her arms. Her breasts heaved and fell with every breath, her rose petal nipple's stiffened, her body melding with Harry's as she slowly straddled Harry.

She felt his passion surge beneath the simple cotton of his night garb. Her brow found his, eyes burying into each other's, breathing even, passionate, wrought with longing.

Their lips met. An eruption of passion surged through them, arms enveloped, clothes stripped. Words were past, words of passion, love, desire. Slowly, Hermione eased herself onto him, a cry of pain tearing from her as her maidenhood tore. Together the each fell to the art of lovemaking, long, full and into the night.


	3. Reflection

_**Chapter Two – Reflection**_

The Burrow

Great Britain

August 16th 1998

Following the downfall of Lord Voldemort, so was young Harry's life thrown in disarray. Wizarding media, press sharks, photographers and well-wishers flooded the young man's life. For many a month he became almost a prisoner within the only place he now could now call home: The Burrow.

Mr and Mrs Weasley were often at edge with the media crowd, who all sort to gain some sight, some word from the hero of the wizarding world.

Harry huddled, miserable, dejected within the bedroom of which he shared with Ron, Hermione stationed tenderly behind him, her arms enveloping him endearingly as she sort to bring comfort to the chaos of his world.

"It's ok Harry, its ok," Hermione cooed gently, her hand brushing back stray strands of his thick, dark hair. Misery emanated from the youth as together he and his love listened to another tirade of wants and dismissals, stemming from the grounds below.

After weeks, months of annoyance, Harry's self-imprisonment eventually came to an end. The media, still inconsiderate, now faced (To them) the infuriating task of entering a shielded area protected from outsiders, so had become the need of the Weasley family.

Harry, thankful for Mr and Mrs Weasley's understanding, care and protection, took to sitting within the beautiful, summer ripe orchid. The scent of ready apples, united with the fresh, grass scented breeze, served to offer some soothing to the troubles of the young man's soul.

Stationed beneath a towering apple tree, the air filled with the flittering rain of blossoms, offered a quiet ambiance for self-reflection.

In his hands Harry fingered the yew wand which had once belonged to Lord Voldemort. The wand was beautiful, flawless, bone white, handsome. Harry had claimed the wand of his lifelong enemy as his spoil of war. Now, beneath the sight of the trees and nature, Harry could only wonder how much blood truly was soaked into the form of this magical implement.

Harry swallowed, set the wand into a holster, giving to him by Mrs Weasley, which hung down beneath his left armpit to offer easy reach. Harry guessed that since Mrs Weasley suspected Harry's ambition to become an Auror thus evoked the reasoning behind her gift.

Within, Harry tried to understand the sheer loss Voldemort's death had bestowed amidst his heart. Was this normal? What Harry felt was almost like the sickening seeds of grief. Voldemort had been nothing but an enemy, a killer, yet at the sight of the dishevelled, willowed abomination Harry had seen with Dumbledore during his wandering limbo, Harry couldn't help but feel somewhat dejected for his hated foe.

Drawing himself to his feet, Harry reached for the sky, stretching high, luxuriously. He turned to face the Burrow. A gnome grunted, waddled across the grassy pastures offering him neither look nor acknowledgement of Harry's presence. Harry smiled, at least something could maintain normalcy amidst the chaos of the world.

With a sigh, Harry stepped towards the main house. His gut roiled with distress, thinking of Mrs Weasley's pampering, how every time she saw him Molly felt obliged to pull him into an endearing hug. Harry loved Mrs Weasley for her care and love, but at this point in time, mollycoddling was not the care he needed. He was in need of something practical, something useful he could do, something to fill the void aching within his heart.

Stepping past the main house, Harry sighted Mr Weasley's workshop. The duel-door barn served as both Mr Weasley's hobby station and the garage where Arthur kept, his newly reclaimed, Ford Anglia.

A racket of music sounded from the barn, stationed at the east of the Weasley's lopsided house. The sound was aged, Muggle Rock & Roll. Bill Haley and his comets were currently rocking around the clock. Shaking his head exasperatedly at Mr Weasley's taste in music, Harry advanced upon the garage.

Resting his weight against the form of the large main door, Harry sighted the form of Mr Weasley. Arthur was currently ached over the stripped engine bay of the Anglia. A hydraulic workshop crane held the lifted, stripped engine in the air, resting upon a reinforced stand.

A collection of parts, lube tanks and tools littered in organised chaos about the aspiring mechanic. Harry could hear the bustle of work sounding from Mr Weasley, followed by the joys of singing. Harry's heart lifted, felt a spur of happiness enter him as gingerly, Harry announced his presence to Mr Weasley. Arthur Weasley glanced back over his shoulder, his face splotched with oil, his work cloths ragged and greasy.

"Harry! My boy, what do I owe this pleasure?" Mr Weasley greeted fondly. Taking up a rag once set into the stripped headlight bay, Arthur Weasley cleansed his hands of oil before shaking Harry's hand vigorously. Harry smiled brightly, eyed the stripped sight of the Angela's engine bay.

"This looks interesting," Harry stated with genuine intrigue. Mr Weasley beamed.

"She is beautiful, Harry, an absolute marvel of Muggle engineering." Harry chuckled, marvelled at Mr Weasley's enthusiasm.

"Can I help?" Harry questioned, Mr Weasley beamed, placing an arm around Harry's shoulders drawing him close to the vehicle.


	4. Urgent News

_**Chapter Three – Urgent News**_

California - USA

Interstate 5

The emerald toned, highly tuned Mitsubishi Evolution cruised down western interstate of California, at a pace which casually pasted any nearing rivals.

Harry relished in the power of his car, his ease of his driving, the nonchalant pace of power an infuriating pleasure. Driving, for Harry, had always held an extreme gratification, settling into a cruse Harry's thoughts shifted back to his former life in England, to a world of magic, magic and torture.

* * *

"And our last step is to bolt down the carburettor," Mr Weasley instructed, offering Harry the free space to bolt down the air and fuel blend. Harry, with an air of pride, thus connected the pivotal piece of the Ford Anglia's engine, drawing a smile from both him and Mr Weasley.

"I must say Harry," Mr Weasley stated, placing an arm around the shoulders of his young charge. "You sure take to cars well,"

Harry smiled, cleansing his hands of oil, grease and mechanical lubricant, taking in the glory of his and Mr Weasley's work.

"Don't suppose I could tempt you into letting me drive her?" Harry teased, expecting a rebuff, what he didn't expect was Mr Weasley to eye him with care and respect.

"I don't see a reason not to, once we tame this little girl," Harry started, amazed. He beamed, he and Arthur beginning to advance upon the living vehicle. The Anglia shuddered in pleasure, squeaked with pride, flashing its newly installed headlights.

"Good girl," Mr Weasley cooed once more drawing a shudder, a purr from the vehicle as he caressed the car's front end. "We should be done in a few days, then we'll see about getting confident behind the wheel,"

"Arthur! Arthur!" Mrs Weasley's voice sounded beyond the entrance of the barn. Gazing questioningly at each other, both Mr Weasley and Harry stepped out to sight Molly Weasley rushing towards them, brandishing a piece of parchment.

"Harry, Harry dear, you're here, thank goodness. Urgent news from Gringotts and the Ministry," Harry swallowed, took the parchment from Mrs Weasley and began to read.

* * *

Harry shuddered at the memory. that had been one of the hardest moments of his life. A broad smile crossed Harry's lips.

Before him, Harry sighted an obviously tuned, multihued, purple dominated Nissan 350z. The driver was cruising at casual pace, windows rolled down, as was the custom for most drivers who travelled the California heat.

Harry smiled slyly, pressed on the gas and attempted to run alongside the driver. Harry suppressed a shudder of pleasure and surprise. The person driving the exotic vehicle was a woman.

Visage wrought with exquisite beauty, sun kissed skin, hair of flowing, jet black silk. The woman possessed an air of authority and toughness, reverting, sexy. The woman glanced towards Harry; saw that her voluminous hair was held back by a thick, black circlet.

Harry winked, teased the woman with a beckon. The woman gazed, indifferently towards Harry, with a rev of engine so did she begin to pull away. Harry followed, setting his foot down ever-so-slightly upon the accelerator. Once more Harry's Evo settled beside the 350z. The woman glanced towards Harry, together, with the swerve across lanes, so did Harry and the woman begin to draw closer, flirting with danger and each other.

With the weave of the cars did they nearly collide, side on separated at only the slightest of moments, a hair's breadth between them.

Harry gestured to the interstate which stretched out between them, began to pull away showing his meaning and intentions. The woman responded. Together the two cars began to race.

A flash of speed camera's caught them as they surged beneath a fly over. This was the point, the cue, the start. Together the two cars surged into life, both Harry and the exotic beauty took off at a burst of power.

Wind caught Harry's wealth of hair, billowed the woman's voluminous dark wealth. Adrenalin began to surge, heighted, excited by their casual glances between each other. The woman's stern, confident visage wrought with concentration, Harry's sly, sexy, inviting.

At a hazard pace, so did the two cars need to swerve seemingly static cars in their haste, the pair caught between their reverting game.

With double clutch, rapid gear shifts, the two cars surged next to each other, neither able to take the lead. As one the two cars veered around the body of a semi-truck, pulling out dangerously behind the rig, one in either lane beside the semi, before, as one, pulled out sharply in front of the rigs centre of direction.

The truck driver sounded his horn, gestured infuriatingly at the two racers; the woman beside Harry flipped him the bird before, with a surge of power, the 350z pulled out before the Evo. Harry barely flinched. Easing on the power, ever-so-slightly, Harry allowed the Nissan to pass with only the slightest of space between them. The sun kissed beauty surged across several of the lanes, Harry following in her stead. Together each pulled into a rest stop. They stopped as one before an eatery, the rush of adrenalin searing through Harry, drawing forth his own steady, deep breathes.

The woman exited her car. Harry's gaze turned to her, smiled as he sighted her garb, sexy, alluring: tight jeans, translucent shirt exposing a dark, black bra. Harry exited his own vehicle. Each leaned casually against their respective rides, a silent question passing between them.

"Names Harry," so stated Potter, the woman winked, her eyes dark and deep.

"Letty,"


	5. Specs, Chit Chat, Peace

Chapter Four – Specs, Chit Chat, Peace

Metallica's epic cover of Bob Seger's Turn The Page thundered from the Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution's intense sound system. The driver, Harry James Potter, leaned casually against the frame of his car, his driver's side door opened, enveloping him almost like a shield.

The woman, Letty, eyes deep, gleaming with flirtation, slowly leaned forward, the neck of her top opening to offer Harry a slight view her shapely cleavage.

"Let's see what we got here?" cooed Letty, her words coming as that of a girl child relishing her first Christmas.

Letty lifted the front bonnet of Harry's vehicle, exhumed a strident, impressed whistle as the full girth of the Evo's mojo was unveiled.

The standard CP9A platform had been meticulously, lovingly, expertly turned. The well accustomed Letty noticed, not just the gleaming, burnished pretties, but also the sheer wealth of power which exhumed from the bay.

Her eyes settled upon the Direct Port, Nitrous Injection system. Noticed the many pistons which fed the gas to the engine, it was obvious that this Brit was technically knowledgeable, he was almost certain to be running of several mini tanks of NOS, this set up wasn't designed for one, or maybe even two of the larger tanks. This was a professional racers set up, not a joy riders dick swinger.

Letty's gaze lifted from the engine bay to sight the driver, her eyes running up and down his lean, strong form.

"Is all this girth compensation for something?" Letty teased, Harry chuckled.

"Why don't you find out?" Letty snorted, closed the hood with a strident thump.

"It'll take more than a buffed up bay and a sexy accent to drop these panties," Letty challenged, her hip cocked, gaze strong. Harry returned the gaze with obvious flirtation, he gestured to Letty's vehicle.

"What gear you packing?" Harry drawled, Letty's eyes met Harry's.

"You'll have to earn a strip job from me," Letty cooed, Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Looking to get on the circuit?" Letty questioned, all flirtation and tease gone, her tone all business. Harry sniffed.

"I'm always looking for a rush," Harry stated, the woman before him ran her fingers through her wealth of hair.

"Ever hear of the Black List?" so questioned Letty, Harry frowned, his brow ruffled. Letty took this as ignorance to her question.

"The LAPD has comprised a Black List of the fifteen most influential racers in California. Anybody who is anybody gets their name on that list. Get recognition, start getting your name on that list and you could win some serious cash."

"Who do I have to tread to get my name on that List?" Letty eyed Harry with obvious respect.

"Draven Lynott is number fifteen on the Black List," informed Letty. "His ride is a kitted Mustang GT500, but he won't race you unless you start gaining some rep, he is a cocky shit, talks big, but, has the skills to back it up."

"Got any races coming up?" Letty smiled, pulled a top of the line smartphone from her waist.

"Drop your digits this way; I'll hook you up by tonight." Harry's eyes gleamed, and drew his own smartphone from his rear pocket. Digits were exchanged, glances shared as they entered their respective rides. Harry offered Letty a flirtatious wink, Letty flipped him the bird as together they separated onto different journeys.

Gringotts Wizarding Bank – Great Britain

October 21st 1998

_Dear Mr Potter _

_It is with the deepest sympathies that we send our regard for the loss of the late Nymphadora Lupin, Remus John Lupin, and Sirius Black III._

_Due to family standing we seek to inform you that you stem to inherit the both the contents of vault 460, which once belonged to Sirius Black III and now stand as heir of the Black family. _

_It is then with the deepest respect that we invite you to attend an heir ceremony at Gringotts Wizarding bank, where you shall receive both your titles and inheritance._

_Hoping you are well_

_Erag _

_Head of Gringotts Wizarding Bank_

Harry re-read the letter numerous times, and still the shock, surprise, sheer grief which the letter evoked continued to fester.

Now, clad in his finest dress robes, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur Weasley stationed on either side of him, Harry swallowed and stood from the bench beside Erag's office.

The three wizards entered slowly, respectfully. The wizen, silver haired goblin eyed them shrewdly as they entered. Harry extended his hand to the Goblin which the aged manager shook, surprisingly firmly. Mr Weasley and the Minister of Magic followed his lead.

"Sit down," grunted the goblin, drawing from a draw behind his desk a large, raw hide folder. A lump formed in Harry throat, he swallowed, feeling almost as though his heart sort to escape via his mouth.

"Mr Potter," The goblin addressed politely, opening the folder. He began to speak of Harry's inheritance and titles as stated in the letter he had received so many weeks earlier. Finally the goblin ceased, waiting for Harry's acceptance. Harry swallowed and gaze from the goblin to each of his associates. "I trust you understand?"

"Sir," Harry coughed, "Mr Erag, I'm afraid I cannot accept the title of Heir of Black." The goblin blinked, seemingly startled.

"Mr Potter? Have I not stated your entitlements clearly?" Harry gestured before him, nodded firmly.

"Yes sir, you have. But as a godson I am not a true Black, my line is of Potter Blood. But, if I may," so stated Harry as the goblin looked set to interrupt. "Young Teddy Lupin, late Nymphadora and Remus Lupin's child, is of the Black Line. I would recommend you bestow the title of Heir of Black upon him, for it is truly his inheritance."

"Teddy Lupin is but an infant," so informed the goblin Erag. "Although such is fitting, this is a great display of generosity you are displaying young man, most unusual for a human."

Harry smiled lightly.

"Yes, I understand, and also, I would like to offer the goblins of both Gringotts, and Britain a token from me, me and the entire wizarding world."

Reaching into the folds of his robe, Harry extracted Voldemort's wand, the instrument of so much death and suffering to both goblin and humanity. The goblin's eyes brightened, glistened with shock, as slowly Harry lowered the wand to the desk before him. Erag reached forth, lifted the wand with careful fingers. His beady black eyes lifted to Harry's.

"Why do you offer this prize to us?" the goblin almost choked, his voice questioning, suspicious.

It was Kingsley who spoke next.

"Harry is offering a branch of peace between human and goblin kind. I also, as Minister of Magic, am willing to offer equal rights to you and your kind, in exchange for peaceful relations between Wizardkind and the goblin population."

The goblin swallowed, set the wand down upon the table and sat back, thoughtfully, into his chair. Kingsley softly patted Harry's shoulder. Erag spoke quietly.

"We thank you, Mr Potter, for your branch of peace. Minister, I believe we have much to discuss."

Harry, Arthur, knowing that their presence was no longer needed, stood from their chairs, bayed the pair respect, and stepped from the room.


	6. Time to Ride

Chapter Five – Time to Ride

The sound of epic metal: Manowar's archetypal classic _Metal Daze _blasted into the shadowy, single room apartment, Harry's room, his bedsit, stationed above a simple convenience store in downtown LA.

Harry lay, still, relaxed gazing at a sweet, magical photo of he and Hermione. The Harry in the picture enveloped the photo Hermione in an endearing embrace, Hermione's arms interlocked lovingly behind the photo Harry's neck, together each stole kisses from each other, the magical pair waving happily from the depths of the colour photo.

This was one part of his new life in America that Harry truly found heart wrenching and sad: The fact that Hermione had not come with him.

He missed the subtle things, the scent of her hair, always clean, fresh, fragrant, the feel of her against him. The feel of her lips when they kissed, the sense of her arms as they hugged, the feel of their souls connecting when they made love; her quiet voice, their intelligent convocation. Subtle, simple things.

It seemed to be almost a lifetime since he had last seen her, though he had his many pictures, the joys of the internet and PC to PC connection allowed him to speak to his lifelong friend, his former lover. But nothing compensated for the real person, the presence of his friend.

Harry breathed, thoughts drifting to the day he had lost her.

* * *

Catford

South East London

Great Britain

Several Years Previous

"Harry! Harry, width barriers!" Hermione almost screamed, Harry's tuned VW Golf GTi thundering down the simple London street, his direction of pace directed to the slip road leading to the avenue in the west.

"I see them," Harry drawled, his heart racing with the spike of adrenalin. Hermione, visage laced with fear, shrunk deeper into the racing seat Harry had installed in the Golf, clutched desperately at the side roof handle, the duel width bollards bearing upon them at a considerable speed.

"Harry, Please…!" Hermione screamed, her heart erupting into her throat. Harry, with casual ease, relinquished the power on the Golf, drew on the brake, drifted, gracefully navigated the curve of the road, narrowly avoiding a collision with the solid steel bollards.

Hermione panted, eyes lifted to the heavens in thanks, chest heaving with every rapid breath. Harry settled to a cruise, his car gently purring as they ventured the side streets leading to the neighbourhoods' main straight. Hermione gazed, shocked, startled at the sheer number of people who gathered at the base of the straight.

Cars of lavish, well-tuned, kitted beauty settled along the road, united with scramblers and crotch rockets. Harry, settling to a crawl approached the crowd.

"What are we doing here?" Hermione questioned eyes wide with shock and fear.

"Thought I'd show you my pastime," Harry chuckled, his shaded window rolling down as his car drew to a stop.

"Harry! You ready Boss?" A young man, no older than Harry, grasped Harry's hand in a gesture of respect. Harry, lowering his expensive spectacles, eyed the youth slyly.

"Who am I up against? Joker." Harry questioned, the young man, Joker chuckled.

"You got Sean, he's gunning for you," Harry scoffed.

"Harry?" Hermione spoke, her tone questioning, concerned. Harry turned to face her, Joker, startled at the sound of Hermione's voice gazed fully into the car.

"Damn! Dat your bitch?" Hermione scowled, Harry turned towards Joker, his gaze laced dark with danger, fury.

"That's my girl, and you'd be wise to speak with a little more respect."

Joker started, hands lifted in a display of reverence.

"No trouble, Boss, no trouble," Harry handed over his logbook to Joker as slowly he turned to face Hermione.

"You're a street racer?" Hermione questioned, her tone laced with fear and concern. Harry offered her a slight smile.

"This is what I do," he was startled to see tears brighten his lovers eyes, "Hermione what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione sobbed, heart filled with shock and disappointment. "I can't accept this,"

Harry gazed towards his lover, eyes filled with concern, he chuckled, lightly caressed her face. She flinched, drew away from his touch, Harry frowned.

"You're too innocent for this," Harry said gently, Hermione gazed towards him, her hands pressed over her heart.

"I thought you were innocent, I never knew you were an adrenalin junky. I thought you just liked cars," Harry heart ached at the tone of her words, he started at the sudden knock upon his side panel, Joker gestured to the waiting start line.

"We're ready to go, Boss," Harry gestured airily to Joker, Hermione sobbed.

"Harry, don't do this," Hermione pleaded, Harry gazed from Hermione to Sean who waited at the starting line, "Please, for me,"

Harry's teeth gritted, his grip tightened on the steering wheel, Sean leaned out of the window of his kitted Ford Fiesta, gestured, jested, taunted. Hermione knew the answer before Harry even spoke it. Teary eyed, Hermione exited the VW Golf, drawing a startled glance from Harry. Joker slapped once more upon Harry's side panel.

"Go time, Boss," so stated Joker. Harry glanced back into his rear view, sighted the retreating Hermione. His heart rended, torn, he swallowed, and began to edge towards the starting line.

* * *

Harry reached for the bottle of beer which rested on the bedside table. He was in no way an alcoholic; he was not dependent upon any drugs, except the rush of adrenalin. But, ever since he had been old enough to walk into a British pub, or truly master a car, Harry had enjoyed two things, the rush of speed, and the taste of Coors Light.

Taking the last swig of his beer, Harry tossed the bottle casually to the side, his aim true, the glass bottle bouncing off the rim of the waste basket, only to fall gracefully into its depths.

Harry sat up, pressed his lips to the Hermione in the picture, stretched out his spine and stood from the divan which served as his bed. Clad in nothing more than a singlet vest and baggy trousers, Harry stepped to the window overlooking downtown LA. He couldn't even see his car, itself settled within the garage below, safe, locked, secure. His mind drifted, wandered to the past, touched the holster at his side, wherein lay his once newly acquired wand.

His thoughts settled upon Hermione. His best friend, his former lover, had never been able to accept his second life. He had once wished that she would have shared a passion close to his, would have supported him as he maintained dominance at the top of south east London's street racing circuit.

The tone of his smartphone shattered his reverie. Harry lifted the smartphone from the desk, where it rested now fully juiced. He smiled, the screen read: _Letty_.

"Ello trickle," Harry drawled, drawing a mocking snigger from the woman down the other end of the line.

"Up for a run, Brit?" Letty questioned, Harry's lips twitched, his eyes brightened.

"Always," Harry breathed, Letty chuckled.

"Get rolling then, look outside."

Harry glanced outside the window of his apartment, sighted Letty's car parked casually across the street, the alluring woman standing by the door, eyes directed towards him.

"Personal escort?" Harry questioned slyly, Letty beckoned with two fingers for him to come down.

"Gotta be seen with the new boy," stated Letty, her tone mischievous. "I've put your name and ride out to all the top players; you better deliver tonight little man,"

Harry offered Letty a gesture of mockery, Letty sniggered.

"What you do in your spare time is up to you," teased the American. "Now get down here, gotta make some money off your ass."

"On my way," Harry cut the call, stepped away from the window. He glanced down at his garb, he needed something better, the clock was ticking, he grabbed his keys, it was time to ride.


	7. Draven Lynott

Chapter Six – Draven Lynott

Vivid green, vibrant purple neon offered an intense illumination to the under carriage of the two highly tuned vehicles as they cruised side by side, traveling towards the west side interchange leading onto Los Angeles' central highway.

Letty's Nissan 350z lead Harry's Mitsubishi Evolution into the west side slips and side roads, the roads leading towards the interchanged guarded, barred, blocked by a number of outlandish, well kitted vehicles.

A crowd of groupies, hangers on and spectators gathered about the cars, the men relishing in the allure of their cars, the women, clad in sexy garb, gathered, some with eyes filled with admiration and longing, others proud and strong as they stood by their own vehicles. Harry swallowed, his eyes drifting from car, person and vehicle, taking in the sights, feeling much like he had done so many years ago at his first trip into Diagon alley.

Civics', Vipers, Surpa's, all stood agleam, specked, kitted with the latest and most modern of equipment. Letty drew her car to a halt beside a royal blue, Snake transferred, racing striped Shelby Mustang GT500. A group stood by the car, central of which, a tall, lean fellow, his air once of arrogant, conceit deminour. His gaze drifted nonchalantly over Harry's Evo. Harry's eyes met that of the man, himself, much like Harry, bearing the hallmarks of maturity in each of their mid-twenty years.

"What we got here?" so drawled the fellow, his close cropped hair buzz cut, his cladding simple, dark tee and fashionable Japanese trousers. Brushing off the admiring arms of several striking women, the man walked, more swaggered, towards Harry's car, his finger coming to rest upon the body of th vehicle. Sliding his finger across the still chill form of the car, Harry exited his vehicle, coming to stand proud beside his ride.

Visage causal, relaxed, fingers running through his wealth of dark hair, Harry leaned againsts the form of his car, taking in the slack, arrogant demeanour of the fellow before him. He stood several inches taller than Harry, standing toe to toe, the air of two vicious brawlers geared for combat issuing between them.

The two men sized each other up sternly, Harry immediately receiving an instinctive sense of dislike centre towards the man before him, much like he had done the first time he ever met Draco Malfoy so many years ago, a lifetime past.

"You must be the tourist, ah pumpkin?" taunted the close cropped, arrogant fellow. Harry folded his arms across his firm chest, eyed the obviously self-centred man straight in the eye, neither him nor the supercilious fellow backing down.

"This is your man," so chimed Letty, her tone confident, assured. Stepping towards Harry so did she flirtatiously wrap her arms about the strength of his shoulder, her gaze falling upon the man before Harry.

"You up for a run, Draven?" a light smile threatened to cross Harry's lips at the mention of the man's name. So this was Draven Lynott, number fifteen on the LAPD's Black List. Draven snorted, turned away from Harry and Letty.

"I got no time for this chump," Draven scoffed, gesturing airily, indicating that neither Harry nor Letty were worth his time or attention.

"Us Brits don't spit our worth, we lay it down hard, guess that's a trait you Yanks don't share," Harry stated, speaking of his British, bulldog pride. A chorus of taunting gasps followed his words. Draven paused in his tread, Harry's words wounding him both personally and professionally. Forcefully he turned to face his accuser.

"You got no rep, Limey, and I bet your cars got no bite," Harry sniggered darkly, eyed Draven up and down. Harry flourished his arm towards his ride, his voice rose to a bellow, ringing out across the entire, gathered party.

"Anyone here got any guts? 'Cos this git obviously doesn't," once more taunts and whistles filled the air towards Draven. The Black List racer grew flush with fury, wheeling he grasped the frame of a young Asian racer, took hold of his shirt and threw him towards Harry.

"You race him!" Draven snapped, tossing the racer forward, "I'm not wearing out my rubber on a nobody."

The Asian racer straightened himself, gazed towards Harry, beckoned for him to bring it with an almost timid air. Harry's ear slowly lowered as Letty began to whisper.

"Shou Yang, Draven's pet," Letty cooed, her hand softly caressing the strength of Harry's chest, impressed by his firm, muscular frame. "Runs a Lexus is300,"

"Shit heap," Harry breathed, his tone, smile wrought with pride and confidence.

"What's the stakes," Letty called, addressing Draven fully, Draven sniggered.

"Five large, I got five large my boy tears this limey a new piston ring." Letty reached into the back pocket of her shorts, extracted a wedge of notes which she brandished towards Draven and his crew.

"I got that covered," Letty chimed, a cheer erupted from the hangers on as, forcefully Draven grasped hold of Yang, threw him towards his toned yellow, transfer strewn vehicle. Harry slipping gracefully from Letty's embrace, settling into the seat of his own ride. Letty leaned into Harry's window, offered him a light smile.

"Nervous?" Letty cooed, Harry feigned shaky hands.

"Petrified," Harry breathed; Letty winked offered Harry's face a light caress as she stepped away from his ride.

Together, the two racers lead by a team of start vehicles, cruised onto the main highway. The road was quiet, deserted, as was the custom for most roads at this hour of the night. The two cars, Yang's Lexus and Harry's Evo cruised, in the road so was sprayed, using canned paint, an single, white stripe, a starting line. The side lanes of the highway were filled with spectators, cars revved, people cheered, Harry breathed deeply, softly allowed his engine to purr.

Yang, stationed at Harry's right side, leaned out the window of his car, offered Harry a taunt and a jest, hoping into install some sense of intimidation into the Brit. Harry rolled his eyes, flicked a switch on his dash board, and allowed the riffs and crash of heavy metal to fill his ears. Harry pulled out a compartment set into the base of his seats platform. Inside rested seven standard tanks of NOS. Harry opened the valves, allowing the chill nitrous freedom. Harry turned to face the road before him. A pretty young lady, garbed in tube top and mini skirt, stood between the two cars, arms held aloft, stationed, ready.

The two cars revved, multihued flames roared from both exhaust stations as the two racers readied their rides. The woman twirled her hands, dropped them to her side, the signal was given, the racers poured on the power, the race began.


	8. Swapping Paint

Chapter Seven – Swapping Paint

The roar sounded from engine bays, the thunder of exhaust, the strident cheer of spectators, ushered Harry and Yang into a world heightened with adrenalin and speed.

The sheer torque issued from Harry's vehicle forced his whole bodily frame back, _hard_, forced into the enveloping embrace of his racing seat. Pistons pumped, engines roared, hissed and gasped with every successful gear shift. Together Yang's Lexus and Harry's Evo beard into a quarter mile drag.

Harry, single-handedly controlled his vehicle, his other absently relinquishing the switch protectors, protectors which shielded the technical mechanics, prevented him from accidently activating his Nitrous injection system.

Settling into a cruise, Harry casually glancing to his side, sighted the vibrant, flamboyant Yang. The Asian racer offered Harry a laugh, reached for a button on his steering wheel, activated his Nitrous system. The yellow Lexus surged forward, the car injected with a jolt of pace as the gas surged through the engine, increasing engine output a tenfold. Yang laughed, whooped as he began to pull free, the rear of his car absently swaying before the Evo's front bumper.

Harry sniggered, gazed towards his central console, a dark blue display flashed, _Nitrous System ready_. Harry rolled his eyes absently, flicked the switch, the gas surged.

The burst of pace omitted from the engine was incredible. The world hazed, streamed by in a whirl of colour, distinction impossible, sight blurred. With a light touch of his wheel, Harry settled beside the rear of Yang's car, his vehicle gaining pace, surging into stead beside the yellow Lexus. Yang, shocked, wrought with panic, made to block Harry, shifting his car into the Evo's path.

Harry, disgusted by this display of unprofessionalism pitted the Lexus, his front end slamming into Yang's rear bay. The Lexus skidded, span out of control, slewed across the lanes hazardly, before crashing side on into the highways side barriers. The car rolled, gained air, flipped out into the verdant greenery which flanked the road. Steel, body kit, bay, parts splintered off the Lexus, dusted the ground, the earth gouged where the car hit the turf.

All this happened in a split second, the world slowed, even at pace, with the hazardous accident, the Lexus upturned onto his roof as it settled. Harry sniggered darkly, steadied into an easy, unopposed win.

A crowd of well-wishers, fellow adrenalin junkies greeted Harry's car at the quarter mile stop. Harry exited his car when finally it drew to a stop, enveloped by bodies all wanting to be seen with the winner. Harry held his arms out wide in celebration. Letty strolled through the crowd, hips swaying, offered him a wink before presenting him with a large wedge of cash.

"Sexy and brutal," Letty cooed, her gaze slight, "I can see us going far," through the darkness the royal blue Mustang GT500 cruised, its ambiance one of chaos and fury. Draven Lynott stepped from his vehicle, air settled, visage set into a simple, sly smile.

"Guess you don't mind swapping paint," stated Draven, a battered, bloody, beaten up Yang settled in the rear of the Mustang. Harry was pleased that the kid was alive, but his ride was totalled.

'_Maybe he'll think twice before lane hogging again,_' Harry mussed, eyed Draven darkly.

"Guess not," Harry drawled, his arm coming to envelop Letty, herself settled into his embrace, her gaze confident, sexy, strong.

"Fancy a shot?" Letty cooed, her hand coming to softly caress Harry's developed abs through his tee. "Get one back for your little lap dog?"

Draven sniggered, he gestured airily, turned away from the mocking sight of the couple.

"I got you Limey, I got you," so breathed Draven, Letty chuckled.

"You're in his path," Letty breathed lightly into Harry's ear, her hand coming to rest upon his, together they turned away to be enveloped by cheers, soaked up the praise, relished the thrill of winning.


	9. Draven's Challenge

Chapter Eight – Draven's Challenge

The southern California sun streamed down with a heat almost stifling, the ambiance humid, clammy; Harry James Potter thanked not only the stars, but his own common sense in installing a vital, air conditioning system into his vehicle.

Back home in Britain such a luxury was un-necessary, the weather hardly ever needing artificial chill air, even in the heights of summer the device would scarcely be used, but here, amidst the west of America it would be boarding on the brink of stupidity not to have this vital luxury.

Harry drew his car into the joint parking bays outside _The Racers Edge_ auto shop. Letty had called several days past stating that she and a number of her friends had informed the owner of the shop, himself also known as Harry, that Potter was a hot new property on the street racing circuit, and as such the owner wished to examine the specs of his vehicle for retail purposes.

Harry stepped from his vehicle, pressed the central locking of his car, the lights flashed, a slight _beep_ sounded, signalling that his vehicle was secure, Harry chuckled and entered the auto shop.

Harry's eyes widened delightfully, the interior of the shop was a racers dream. Personalised number plates, tire stacks, glass cases filled with Nitrous tanks, big, standard, burnished body kits and engine parts, all decorated the store in a display of professionalism and abundance.

Harry's eyes fell from gazing at a display of a burnished spoon engine to something even more delectable.

Two women, one blessed with a waist length wealth of midnight dark hair, the other a shoulder length cascade of black thread, stood at the counter talking to the store manager and assistant. The woman blessed with the waist length wealth of hair, wore the tightest pair of shorts Harry had ever seen, exhibiting her lean, sexy legs and outlining the semblance of her gorgeous rear.

Her friend wore leather trousers, themselves clinging to her shapely legs, outlining the strength, the allure of her thighs. The woman with the length of hair turned, feeling eyes of somebody upon her. Harry smiled, he should have known, before him stood Leticia Ortiz.

"See something interesting?" Letty cooed seeing the light flush which had entered Harry's face. The woman beside her turned. It would be embarising to gape, so Harry maintained his shock sternly, though the woman saw his obvious desire in other ways.

The woman, much the same as Letty, was blessed with natural beauty, tanned skin and hauntingly deep blue eyes drew the attention to her visage which was utterly flawless in its allure. The woman leaned back casually against the desk; the attractive, blonde male assistant eyed Harry courteously from between the pair.

"Brian, Mia," Letty spoke gesturing towards Harry with a flourish. "This is the guy I told you about, the one who is going to climb the Black List,"

The woman, Mia, raised her eyebrows in mock surprise, her eyes slowly raking Harry, almost as if she were judging his credentials.

"I gotta admit, the driver is impressive, but does the mount suit the rider?"

"Well we'll just have to see about that," so spoke the blonde clerk, stepping around the desk to advance upon Harry. He extended his hand in welcome; Harry grasped in ina clash of fives, each firm, strong in their grip.

"Names Brian, assistant manager, I hear Draven is hunting for your head," Letty chuckled, came to stand next to Harry, her arms and chin resting intimately upon his shoulder.

"This guy wasted Yang and his ride, Draven is gunning for him like hellfire," so stated Letty. Mia smiled, threaded her arm about Brian's waist.

"Let's check out what this boys packing," spoke Mia, Harry eyed her slyly.

Together the party of four stepped out into the main car park. Amongst the hoard of juiced vehicles and pumped up rides, Harry's ride was most prominent. The green and black Mitsubishi Evolution awaited the return of its owner. Harry unlocked his vehicle, popped the hood and exhibited the cars innards to the group.

Mia wolf whistled at the sight of the burnished engine, at just a single sight it was clear that this guy was packing some serious power. The roar of a dozen cars sounded from the lot, Harry leaned out the driver's window, the group turned to sight Draven Lynott's Mustang approaching, followed by a number of juiced vehicles.

The royal blue Shelby stopped before Harry's car. The tinted windows slowly wound down, unveiling Draven's smug visage.

"Set for a race, Limey?" Harry scowled, the curse, though childish did none to lighten his dislike for Draven. Harry snorted.

"Ready when you are, Yank," Harry fired back, Brian set Harry's bonnet down, turned to face Draven and his Mustang.

"Draven, you know the rules behind a Black List race," Brian stated, Draven chuckled darkly. Reaching into the dash compartment of his vehicle, Draven produced a single slip of paper.

"Get your pink slip ready," Lynott stated, revving his engine hard, "Cos I'm taking that shit heap you call a car," Harry chucked, and reached for his own ownership document. Letty took each of the pink slips, examined them, everything was in order, the race was on. Harry and Draven led the party out of the parking bay, settled at a collection of lights. Harry, meanwhile, failed to see the massive oil slick his car had left in the parking yard.


	10. Buster

Chapter Nine – Buster

Both Harry and Draven settled at the eastside junction of LA. Draven, poised, confident rested his gaze upon Harry, his smile shrewd. Letty and Mia each took hold of both drivers respective pink slips. Harry, gazed settled upon Draven failed to see the warning light which illuminated a section of his dashboard. Together, both Harry and Draven exhibited the power of their vehicles, engines revved; the slight spike of adrenalin which always filled the veins at the prospect of a race began to flow within Harry.

"Let's make this mascara a little interesting," Draven drawled, brandishing his cell phone.

"Anything you want," Harry threw back, determined not to back down to Draven's games. As one the two racers settled their engines down, ceasing on the revs to a simple ticking over. Draven dialled 911.

"Give me the police," Draven drawled into his cell phone, "We've got a pair of racers tearing up the roads on the eastside, better send some cops,"

Draven's eyes shifted to eye Harry, he smiled slyly. "Maybe an ambulance too," Draven severed the call and began to rev his engine once more. Letty, strong, confident, sexy strolled towards Harry's vehicle; there she leaned into the window.

"You got this," Letty encouraged offering Harry a flirtatious wink, "He's got a lot of power under that hood, be careful." Harry offered Letty a slight smile.

"Thanks for the concern," Harry stated, Letty smiled.

Once more each of the racers began to exhibit the power of their vehicles. Mia, poised, sexy lifted her arms in the custom, Harry and Draven exchanged glances, Mia lowered her arms, the race began.

Both the Evo and the Mustang kicked up dust, the tires squealed. Harry's Evolution took the advantage at the start, his vehicle settling smoother, drawing him into a slight lead on the Shelby.

The cars settled to a chaotic speed, slipping between lanes, narrowly avoiding traffic. Harry shifted his car into a power slide as the road cornered suddenly. His car whined startlingly, Harry, shocked by the sudden, uncharacteristic scream of his engine gazed towards the dash. His oil light flashed, vibrant, warningly, Harry gazed in disbelief as his car choked and spluttered, his oil was draining.

Draven smashed his own vehicle side on into Harry's car, drawing a whine, a scream of metal on metal. Turning his gaze, Harry sighted Draven's smug, knowing visage. Draven blew Harry a kiss before speeding away. Harry gave chase, much to the protests of his vehicle. His power was draining; the Shelby began to settle into a lead. Harry forced power into his ride, made a valiant effort to catch the healthy Shelby. But his car merely coughed, rocked and began to die. Harry flashed in indicators towards Draven, signalling his surrender, Draven, slowed, wheeled and headed back towards Harry's broken vehicle.

The humiliation, the utter shame of loss, mostly to surrender, rended Harry's heart. He fought back his fury, his shame as he gazed towards Draven.

"I knew you weren't Black List material, buster," Harry's eyes grew wrought with fury at the terrible insult. Stepping from his former ride, Harry threw the keys towards Draven who sniggered and brandished the keys in taunt.

Letty, Mia, Brian and a number of Draven's cronies drew up behind the parked pair. Letty, shocked, strolled towards Harry.

"What happened?" Letty questioned, Draven sniggered.

"He's a buster!" so taunted Draven, Harry's eyes settled on Yang who made a mocking, cutting gesture with his fingers. Harry growled and turned away. He did not want to see his beloved ride towed away by another.

Harry did not weep, but his fury remained.


	11. Treatment for Gloom

Chapter Ten – Treatment for Gloom

Autumn in California was anything than typical. Harry, so acclimatised to an English season, where greenery faded and chill winds entered, pounded the streets of south LA clad in vest and shorts. This was the most pleasant, almost unbearably hot season he had endured, though the heat did all but smoulder the fury which welled deep within his heart.

Six months had pasted, six long, hard months since he had lost his beloved vehicle to Draven. Harry was thankful for the consolidation he had received from _The Team_. Brian and Mia were kind, Brian, as assistant manager of The Racers Edge, had managed to secure a position of employment for Harry, himself working as mechanic and sales consultant at the high performance auto shop.

Harry had met a number of fellow, likeminded people while he worked. Three, Leon, Vince and Jessie were friends of Brian, each also were associated with Letty and Mia. Letty had been an angel in leather, or so that was what Harry believed her to be, in thanks for her help and support. The gorgeous racer had loaned him her tuned Nissan, not as a means of collateral against Draven, but more to make sure Harry did not lose his edge. Now, in a day of freedom, Harry had made enough money to, possibly, purchase a vehicle.

A deep red Mazda RX-7 settled into a cruise beside Harry. He paused in his trek, turning to gaze longingly towards the highly tuned vehicle. Harry could tell, just by the sound, and gentle purr of the engine, that this car was loved and respected.

A VeilSide body kit adorned the vehicle complete with matching rims. The car was decorated with a number of transfers; the windows of the two door coupe a deep, smoky grey.

At his waist so did Harry's belt holster cell phone begin to ring. Plucking the mobile into his hand, Harry glanced towards the caller identification. It was a number he did not recognise.

"Hello?" Harry answered; the voice that responded was firm, wrought with strength and gravel.

"I hate to see a good racer get cheated," so stated the caller, Harry glanced towards the window of the Mazda, the vehicle's lights flashed in response. Slowly the window of the driver's side door wound down.

A powerhouse of a man rested in the driver's seat. The man emanated an air of toughness, his head shaved, arms wrought with muscle. Harry swallowed, he knew this man, though now was his first time ever that he truly had seen him.

Harry nodded in a gesture of respect, Dominic Toretto offered him a side glance.

"Get in," so spoke Dom. Harry complied.

The legend did not fail to impress. Harry suspected that the Mazda had the minimal of twenty plus grand under its hood, owing to its perfect purr at cruise speed, and roar of power when Dominic turned up the pace.

"Draven knew he couldn't beat you," informed Dom his eyes set towards the road. "As I'm sure you suspected, he cut your main fuel system."

Harry sniggered darkly.

"Couldn't lose face in-front of his crew?" Dom's gaze drifted slightly towards Harry, he sniggered.

"You've got a lot to learn kid," Harry turned, faced the legend.

"So educate me,"

"Draven is west side runner for Jonny Tran, it's his job to stay on top. Not only that, but Tran laid ten grand down on him taking your car. Trust me, he would have been better dead if he had lost."

Harry snorted in disgust.

"So what do I owe for this ride?" questioned Harry, Dominic offered him a rye, slight smile.

"Letty arranged it, she's got a surprise for you." The drive was little more than an hour before Dominic pulled into a garage conversion of a building. Harry smiled, sighting the gorgeous Letty, lent casually against the entrance of the garage.

Her frame was delicious, clad in dark halter and figure hugging pants. Her wealth of dark hair was held back by a bandeau. She winked.

"Hello gorgeous?" Harry said, his words wrought with English allure as he stepped from Dom's vehicle. Letty smiled.

"Head inside," Letty's tone was rich, laced with tease. "Gonna get you out of this shitty mood."

Letty threaded her arm about Harry's waist. A slight chuckle sounded from Dom as together the three stepped into the garage.

"You found him then?" so came another familiar voice. Harry glanced, saw Brian stationed beside an engine crane, a 3.2 litre straight six engine rested within the grasp of the lift. At the side, covered in a tarp was a vehicle

"What you think?" Dominic questioned striding towards Brian and the engine. Harry's gaze met Letty's, she smiled and gestured towards the crane.

The engine was an oily un-burnished wreck, oil pipes and certain sections looked time worn, Harry sniggered. The engine was a European import. Harry knew that this engine was exclusive to a certain vehicle, but which one it was, the name eluded him.

"We're gonna need some serious WD – 40," Harry jested, Dom and Brian sniggered.

"Can't expect to get a Lambo for free, kid," so stated Dom.

"I'd rather a Supra than a Lambo in a quarter mile run,"

"Brits got sense," Letty cooed, stepping towards the tarp. "Say hello to your new ride,"

Letty pulled back the tarp, Harry's heart lifted with delight.


End file.
